


Wish I Stayed

by giraffles



Series: FMA Rarepair Week 2016 [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: F/F, FMA Rarepair Week, Fluff, Post-Canon, y'all need more lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 01:56:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7957894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giraffles/pseuds/giraffles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>And it's not what you've lost,<br/>But it's what you find.</i>
</p>
<p>Or, when they finally came together, despite everything that has and hasn’t happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wish I Stayed

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda short, kinda silly, but here is round one of lesbeans. c:

      “I have a confession to make.” Paninya began sheepishly, causing her to look up from her work. Unthinkingly Winry swiped a hand over her brow— probably smearing herself with enough machine oil that she’d need three showers to get it all off. But that was normal, an occupational hazard, when you surrounded yourself with metal and gears and fine wires that imitated life. She’d never apologize for the mess that came with making art.

      “ ‘Bout what?” she returned casually, checking the measurements of screws and replacing them in their homes of steel. She was meticulous nowadays; never again would of _her_ pieces be the reason someone got hurt. Even if most of her clients nowadays didn’t run off to fight monsters and disappear through portals.

Paninya sits on the edge of her workbench, the only person who can get away with disgracing such a sacred place. She swings her her legs and Winry can hear the soft creak of artificial joints. “I was really hoping you’d come back.”

They may have only met briefly all those years ago, but they had bonded instantly. Kept in touch through letters and then phone calls when Winry decided to strike out on her own in Rush Valley. Someday she might go home to Resembol and stay, take over the family trade. Maybe even find an apprentice and bring them back with here. She wasn’t ready for that right now, there was too much of /them/ still in that place. Too much lingering sadness and regret and a soft sadness that filled the silence. Rush Valley was busy, bursting with noise and distractions.

Paninya leaned back over the table and she could see her muscles moving under her shirt. Lots of distractions.

      “You just want someone who will fix your automail at a reduced fair.” She counters, wrench twirling in one hand. “You’re lucky I give you the cute girl discount.”

The discount that doesn’t exist for anyone else. It’s just for Paninya.

And, oh, she _knows_ that too. There’s that sly thief’s smile that only comes out around Winry, the shift in body language that crosses the line between friendly and inviting. They both know what game they’re playing.

Yet, they’re both dancing around the subject so elegantly. Half because Winry is afraid to give what little affection she’s gather up over the years. She keeps having her family torn apart every time she turns around; she’ll let in another one, and who knows what will happen. Paninya gives her the space she’s looking for, respects those boundaries. If Winry told her to leave right now, she would, no questions asked. She’s a little shy about these things herself, even if she’s brazen on the streets, flaunting her new chrome plated designs that Winry has put so much time into.

Winry has been head over heels for a while now, and it’s more than an infatuation or desperate way to curb the loneliness. She desperately wants every part of her. Finding words is hard, an appropriate moment to speak them even harder. Especially when the object of her desires is crawling over her workspace like an overgrown cat.

      “I bet you say that to everyone.” Paninya was close, so close now, rolling onto one hip to better face her, “You’ve got dates lining up at the door for you.”

She’s not wrong, per say. Winry has had propositions from all genders, both automail users and fellow mechanics alike. She’s turned them all down. Because they’re not _her_.

      “They’re not worth it,” She replies flippantly, “They only love me for my talent.”

And probably for her looks. Or something. It’s really not important right now, as her inhibitions are suddenly checking out of her mental sphere with Paninya _so close_. It’s suddenly now or never.   She keeps her hair short, Winry doesn’t blame her because she knows how it can get tangled in metal fingers, but that doesn’t stop her from winding her hands in it and dragging her down. Then finally they’re kissing, and it’s been far too long in the making. So good, even as it leaves a sweet ache in her chest. Paninya is climbing into her lap and she welcomes the weight, the safe feeling in that pressure, the realization that she’s real and she’s not going to leave, and then—

—They both make the mistake of leaning back in her chair and gravity takes hold. They fall with a crash and garbled shrieks, Paninya’s automail banging painfully into her shins even as she does her best to avoid it. They lay there for a long moment, in a jumbled heap and in stunned silence, before Winry loses it. She can’t hold back the laughter at the sheer absurdness of it all, at the situation and at the hopeless mess they are together. Paninya breaks down into giggles against her breast.

      “I also have a confession to make,” she gasps as soon as she regains enough breath to, “I’m glad I came back too.”


End file.
